


Ubiquitous

by EnvelopesYou



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Angst, Cheating, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, heartbroken
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 04:24:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6596554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnvelopesYou/pseuds/EnvelopesYou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here, there, and everywhere. How we wonder about everyone but ourselves. Especially those closest to us. /// Dan\Reader story that builds a bridge over broken hearts and cheating significant others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Future me, he was so shitfaced it was unbelievable. Had to get him up off the floor. He didn’t know where he was. Such a mess, that one. Don’t know if he’ll be in class tomorrow. Something’s wrong with him. Not just the drugs. I don’t really know him enough to ask. I don’t want him to think I’m nuts or pushy. I guess you’ll see what happens._

_Future me, he’s sad. And so am I. What to do...?_

_Future me, we talked for hours last night. About everything. He’s got so much inside him. So do I. Hopefully he’ll find someone to help him get it all out. He deserves someone. He seems like he needs someone. It just can’t be me._

_Future me, he left today. It’s good. It’ll be great. It’ll be good. ...I miss him already._

_Future me, he came back. He’s better. I should have gone with him. I’m not. I think I’ll leave him alone. Don’t wanna drag him back down. I’m pretty good at that. It’s okay. I’m okay. I’ll be okay._

_Future me, graduation was.. I don’t know. Whatever it was. School’s over. Don’t know if I’ll find a job. Don’t know what I’ll do. Starting to feel like this piece of paper was more than I paid for it. More than I’m going to end up paying for it. So stupid. He wanted to go out for drinks. I said no. It’s just not a good time._

_Future me, his band is amazing. I knew he had something inside of him but to think it was this? It’s pretty clear someone hurt him. I wouldn’t have but. I was too scared to pursue anything. I wouldn’t have been good for him anyway._

_Future me, he went on tour, isn’t that crazy? And here I am... doing.. nothing..._

_Future me, I met someone. He seems nice. He’s not Dan though. Isn’t that sick? I need to get out of my head. I need to get him out of my head. This isn’t right._

_Future me, he’s back. His band... I don’t know. Something happened. He seems so unhappy. I don’t know what to do. Went out for coffee. The light in his eyes is dim. It hurts. But I don’t know what to do. I don’t think I can do anything. I don’t think it’s my place. My boyfriend doesn’t want me hanging around him. I don’t know what to do._

_Future me, he has another band. And the sound is different. His voice is different. He’s gotten better. And his lyrics are... still sad. We had a couple drinks after the show. Nothing happened. My boyfriend was mad about it. I don’t know what to do. There’s nothing there. I keep telling my boyfriend that. I keep telling myself that. I don’t know._

_Future me, his band broke up I guess. He’s really out of it. It seemed so abrupt. But he won’t really talk about it. The boyfriend has let me go out with him so I’m going to try and make as much out of it as I can. Help as much as I can. But I don’t think I can. I still don’t know what to do._

_Future me, nothing happened. I wanted it to. He wanted it do. ...maybe we kissed. I don’t know. He was saying sorry a lot. He was a mess. So was I. I think this is wrong. But I’m so sad for him. He’s so sad for me. This isn’t right._

_Future me, he has a new band. This one is silly. I’m glad he didn’t give up, though. There was a long time there that he wasn’t doing anything with his voice. It hurt. Probably more him than me but it hurt me, too. He needs to sing. There’s just so much inside him. Even if this band is ridiculous, it’s still good. I’m glad he didn’t give up._

_Future me, I told him my boyfriend wanted me to move across the country with him. He seemed unhappy about it. Sad for all the right reasons. I’m sad too, but what can I do? I love him I guess... I don’t know... sorry Dan.. maybe in another life..._

_Future me, Dan moved out to California too, isn’t it the craziest? Not after me or anything, that’s stupid. He got a job and all that. Not singing but. He’s still singing, too. It’s good. It’s nice to see him again after so long. We had coffee. Nothing happened. I think my boyfriend is ... never mind. I’d scratch it out but it wouldn’t matter. Just never mind. You remember what we thought, right? I hope it’s not true..._

_Future me, it was true. My life is over. It feels over. I’m so fucking stupid. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to go. Should I call Dan? That’s fucking stupid, right. It is. God I’m so stupid._

_Future me, I called Dan. He took me out for coffee. We stayed at the diner until three in the morning. Everything he said was like everything I needed to hear. Or maybe wanted. But it doesn’t change anything. Doesn’t change how stupid I am. How awful I feel. I had nowhere to go back to. He let me crash at his place. Let me take my boxes back there. His roommate is nice. Barry, is his name, I think. Dan’s doing really well. I wish I could say the same thing. I need to do something._

_Future me, did nothing again today._  
Future me, did nothing again today.  
Future me, did nothing again today. 

_Future me, Dan took me out to lunch. It was nice. I think I’m ready to get on with my life. He’s seeing this girl. She’s nice enough I guess. I don’t know. That ship sailed a long time ago. I don’t think he ever knew. I think I was just always this stupid._

_Future me, got hired today. Some little nothing job at a desk. But it’s good. I’m good. Things are getting better. Dan took me out to dinner to congratulate me. I owe him so much._

_Future me, found a place. Around the block from Dan’s. Coincidence, I swear. It was cheap. And really small. But it’s good. All I need. I wish I just didn’t feel so alone. Dan’s helping me move all my stuff in. I’m never going to be able to repay him. He tells me no need. But there is. There just is._

Taking a trip down memory lane was almost one of your favorite things to do; flipping errantly, letting pages fall before reading an entry. Dozens of notebooks.  Earmarked where important events laid. Tickets to movies and concerts and other things taped everywhere. And pages and pages of stupid doodles, especially when you had entries where you had accomplished nothing. Remembering the haze of depression and how consuming it was. How your therapist had told you to write that you’d done nothing. Because maybe it would motivate you. Shame, more than motivate, but really... eventually it had gotten you to get up. Now you’re in a good place. Things are better. You don’t really trust anyone anymore, except Dan, but that’s okay. Maybe you don’t need to be involved with anyone. Maybe you’re happy the way you are.

Today is a special day. The day you get to crack open a brand new journal. And you do so with relish. With absolute delight. Writing keeps you sane. Writing keeps the memories there. So you close your eyes as the spine of the new, sleek, blue covered journal cracks. Such a beautiful sound. Then you set your pen down. This one is blue ink. Scribbling the date in the top right corner, and then,

_Future me, going out to dinner with Dan tonight. Last minute thing. His girlfriend cancelled on him. Said her brother was in town. It’ll be nice to sit down just the two of us. Maybe he’ll let me pay this time. But it still won’t put a dent in everything he’s done. Money would never do it justice._

Good enough for now. You’d fill in the rest later. Just in time, too. You hadn’t realized how much time you’d thrown out the window going through your old diaries. One of the only thing you’d managed to keep from move to move to move. Even across the country. They were just too important to lose. Or to let anyone take away from you. A part of you. No one was allowed to have that. Not anymore, at least.

Rushing out the door once you saw his text that he was sitting out front, you got into the passenger seat of his car, smiling gratefully at him. “Hey!” Greeting you warmly as ever. “Thanks for coming out tonight. I felt like it would’ve been a huge waste otherwise...” Laughing softly, running a hand back through his hair. “Seat belt, please!”

As you buckled it, “Happy to be your second choice.” Grinning at him with only the most playful tone you could take. Just a small tease. You two had never really crossed that bridge. One kiss didn’t count. And pining after him for years sure as hell didn’t count, either. None of it mattered. It was over. Done. You were just friends. That was fine. That was the way things were meant to be. Obviously.

His hand clutched at his heart as he pulled away from the curb. “Ooo ouch. Do I always sound like such a huge asshole?” Giggling, still, because that was what he did best.

“Not _always_.” Smiling, still, because that’s what you did best. At least when he was around.

Laughter and music followed the both of you from the car, to the parking lot, to the restaurant. The hostess had tried to sit the both of you at the bar, but you weren’t interested. Instead a booth suited you better. Cozy. Good so that the both of you could sit across from each other and crack stupid jokes and even stupider smiles at one another. The night seemed to melt away, as it always did with him. You’d never be able to get enough time with him, and you were sure everyone that met him felt that way.

For as long as you’d known him, he’d always been sweet and genuine. Even when he’d been hurting. And he’d always tried to do right by you. No matter the circumstance. Dan was just a good guy. And that was why-

...that was why..

“Dan-“ Evening taking a screeching halt as your mind did the same. Not sure you could understand what you were seeing, or even begin to process it. He looked up, first at you, question second only to worry in his eyes. And when he realized you weren’t looking at him he turned his head to look over his shoulder. At the bar.

Where you’d spotted his girlfriend sitting.  
Not alone.  
And _certainly_ not with her brother.

Unless the relationship was as weird as you were hoping it wasn’t. But would that be any better than-

He froze in his spot. Like he couldn’t look away. You couldn’t, either, really. This felt so achingly familiar. This had happened to you before. And it had nearly destroyed you. But that was because you’d been young and dumb and fallen in love with an asshole. An asshole that isolated you from everyone, made arbitrary rules, and really only loved you because you were easy to push around. Took you across the country and then took everything else away from you. And if Dan hadn’t been there-

“Danny-“ Calling after him as he finally found the courage to get up out of his spot and walk over to her. She was snug up against some guy. Just some... some _guy_. Some guy that wasn’t Danny. Letting him grope her. Touch her everywhere. Kiss her. It boiled your blood. God how could-

_How could anyone do that to him?_  
_**To Danny?** _

Hurriedly you took out a couple bills from your wallet, leaving them on the table and grabbing your jacket. Dinner was over. No point in coming back. The waitress came over as you stood up, clutching your hands together as you watched the two of them- well. They weren’t _arguing_. But it wasn’t good. He looked upset. As he had every right to be. Crushed. Not angry. Just... _**devastated**_. She was saying this and that. The classics.

Not what it looks like.  
You don’t understand.  
I’m sorry.

Then she caught you standing there, waiting for him, and as if she’d suddenly found some ammo she started in on him. Poking him hard in the chest, and he shied back from it. Accusing him- of what? Who knew. Nothing that mattered. Because none of it was true. He just kept stepping back from her, hands up, eyes anywhere but her face. As if he couldn’t _stand_ to look at her.

She spit some final words at him.  
And he spit some back.

Then he walked back over to the table, fumbling his hands into his jacket. “I- I got it already-“ You weren’t sure what to do. What to say. What would fix this? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Then his hand took yours, hard. Harder than you knew he meant, but you felt the tremor, so you held him back hard, too. And you walked out together.

He let you go to get in the car and you got in your side. And then the two of you sat there. In anguishing silence. His hands were on the wheel, but he hadn’t even started the car. His eyes were down. On the dashboard, but you knew he wasn’t seeing anything. He was in his head. Gone. So far gone. Thinking. Thinking back on everything.

Because that’s what you’d done, too.  
Now he was questioning every moment he’d been with her. Was she thinking of someone else? Did she ever really even love him? Every time she’d gone out- had she been with someone else? Every late night in. Every- ...every _everything_. Every weird feeling he’d had that he’d pushed aside because he’d loved her. All the trust-

Gone. Shattered.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes. Not so long ago you’d been here. And it had wrecked you. But... Danny wasn’t you. Danny was tougher. Had been here before- god... _how could she do this to him_? You felt anxiousness creep up in your chest. “Danny...” Didn’t know what to say. That night at the diner he’d known everything to say. All the right words.

And here you were now. And you couldn’t say a fucking thing. All you could do was sit there and feel sad for him. He deserved more than that.

Instead of answering you he shakily pushed his keys into the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot. And then once he got on the road he reached out. Taking your hand in his. Seeking. Searching. For any semblance of normality. Anything that made sense, because this sure as hell _didn’t._ Not to him. Certainly not to you.

_How could anyone do that to him?_

That though, running rapid on repeat, spurred on what you thought might do something to relieve the pain. “You deserve bet-“

“Don’t.” His tone wasn’t hard, he wasn’t commanding you to stop. Even though it didn’t sound like a question. It was more of a plea.

Don’t do that.  
Not now.

So you didn’t. Instead you kept his hand in yours, both of yours, holding on to him tightly. He took you home, maybe he’d have gone to his own, maybe he wouldn’t have. You didn’t know. Instead you pushed him out of his side first to make sure he’d follow you. You didn’t want him to be alone. He trailed after you. Inside. Sat heavily on your couch.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Anything. What could you do? What did he need?

“Tea, if you have it. Please.” He just sounded so exhausted, reaching up to put his left hand on his forehead. Almost like he had a headache. But you knew what he was doing.

“Yeah- ..yeah I’ll put the kettle on.” So you left him alone for a few minutes. Filled the pot with water and set it on the flame. Pulled out two mugs, some green tea and a bottle of honey. Then you went back to him. Sat down next to him. Put your arm around him as his head came to your shoulder. Stared out at the undecorated ugly white walls with him. You wished you’d hung some posters or something.. got around to painting... “Dan I’m sorry..” What could you do?

The breathy laugh that escaped him was so unlike any other. So... defeated. And drawn. “What’re you sorry for?” His tone was just as bad. Slowly you reached up to run your hand through his hair. “Fuck- I’m sorry. Don’t- don’t take anything I say tonight. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” What could you do?

“It’s not okay.” He said, a little harder than he meant, probably. Just like how he’d held your hand.

Your lips twitched but you couldn’t get a smile there, even if he wasn’t looking at you. It just didn’t feel right. “No. It’s not.” And then you did it again, “Dan I’m so sorry.” Because how else could you feel? Especially the way he was dissolving. He wasn’t angry- maybe he should have been. He was just hurt.

“Yeah.” He said softly, watery build in his tone. “Me too.” Then he sniffled and you broke into pieces. His hand came up over his eyes even if you couldn’t see him. “Fuck- me too.”

He cried and you cried with him. Wished you knew what to say to make it better. But nothing would. Nothing would fix this. When the kettle whistled he was reluctant to let you go, you were reluctant to get up. But eventually you did. Poured the two of you some tea. Brought it back to him. He was struggling to get it together. When you sat down his head came back to your shoulder.

The mugs got set onto the coffee table. Ignored. The thought was nice. Just watching the steam billow up and up... until they went cold. And the two of you still sat there. The arm around him held steady, hand careful at the back of his wild hair. His hands held yours in your lap, tracing the pads of his fingers over the lines in your palm over and over and over again. You wished you could do something. But what could you do?

You just didn’t know.

He wasn’t really there with you. He was gone. Thinking. Replaying every moment. You wished you could get him to eject the tape and throw it into the garbage where it belonged. With her. _How_ _could she_? To him? It just didn’t compute. None of it made sense and you didn’t know what to do.

You weren’t sure when he fell asleep. You weren’t sure when you did, either. The line felt so blurry. One minute it was dark and then the next it was light out while your alarm chirped away. Work. You had to get to work.

“Dan- wake up-“ But he was already awake.

Sitting up and away from you. Reaching his arms up over his head to stretch. “Shit. Sorry.” Sleep still in his tone. “You gotta go, right? Want me out?” He was smiling and joking. It might be normal. Usual. Happy- if you didn’t know him. But you did. And he wasn’t happy. Wasn’t normal.

“Yeah- well no. You can stay if you want. It’s fine.” He had a house to go back to, probably had things to do today, too, but you didn’t want to rush him out. Slowly you got to your feet and he followed. You had to jump in the shower. Enough time to get ready-

His arms came around you so suddenly it startled you. For all of three seconds before you reached your arms up around his neck and held him as he collapsed into you. Held you tight enough to squeeze the air out of you. “Thanks-“

“I can’t breathe-“ This finally getting a real sounding laugh out of him, even if it was a couple tiers softer than his usual light.

“Sorry. Sorry...” Even as he apologized he seemed unable to let you go. That was fine. You didn’t really want him to, anyway. So you stayed there for a good ten minutes. Just holding on to each other. You still wished you knew what to do. What to say. But he seemed happy with this.

So it was fine.

When he found the strength to let you go he smiled again, still not the same. He’d be different for a while. But he was stronger than you. You knew that. You’d always known that. “I’ll text you, okay?” You offered as he went to the front door.

He nodded. “Yeah- I- ...yeah. Thanks. For-“ He didn’t know what to say.

“Yeah. No problem. I’ll talk to you later.” You didn’t want him to need to know what to say. Not now. Not for a while. So he waved, looked at you for a long couple of seconds and then he was gone again. You watched him climb into his car. Sit there for a while before starting it. And then drove off down the block. Then you hurried through your routine and rushed to work. Sat at your desk all day.

Thought of him.  
Who else?  
Who else...  
_How could she do that to him?_

You forgot to eat lunch. Too preoccupied with doing nothing at work. Nothing but thinking of him. The drive home was the same way. How could she how could she how could she... And when you sat down to write nothing came out for a long time.

So you texted him instead.  
Got an answer right back.  
Talked about nothing for an hour before he said he was going to bed. So you let him.

_Dear future me, I wonder if he thought **how could he?** as much as I’m thinking **how could she?** I really wonder. He’ll be okay. I hope. It’s funny. I never thought **how could he**. Not once. I don’t think he’s thinking **how could she** , either. I think we did it for each other. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay... I don’t know what to do..._


	2. Chapter 2

_Dear future me, I just realized I started writing dear. Not sure why. Happened after that horrible night. Sometimes I wonder why I write letters to myself. Am I any different when I read them back? I guess. I don’t know. I still don’t know. Things have been okay. But still bad. I’ve realized Dan always texts back right away, no matter what time it is. Is it strange? He surrounds himself with so many people. I’m glad. He’s thrown himself into work. Guess he can’t stand not doing anything. Probably keeping busy to keep his mind off that bitch. Yeah I said it. Oh well. I wish I’d been that smart. Maybe I’d be making more money if I’d tried one day earlier. I’m glad he’s not like me. But I still don’t know what to do. He’s coming over after work. Whatever it is he does. All these different amazing things. I wish I could get into the content creation market but I don’t have anything to offer. That’s okay. We’re going to spend the night watching awful movies. I hope his laugh is real this time._

Though you’d been talking with him every single day, you hadn’t heard his voice. And though you’d been talking with him every single day, it just didn’t feel right. His answers were always short, even if the conversation went on forever. Sometimes it did. You were really hoping that sitting down with him for a night would be nice instead of... well. Even if he was still sad, that was fine, too. He was allowed to be sad. And if that’s what he wanted to do, you’d let him. Be sad with him. Because what else could you do?

Nothing. Until you understood what he needed, you could do nothing save be there for him. So when he’d asked you to come out tonight, you’d thought maybe a night in would do him better. He was up and out and running all the time now. Two weeks since it had happened. Nonstop. Just tonight you wanted him to know he was safe to come down from that workaholic high. Things would be okay. At least you hoped so.

The knock at your door was soft and if you’d been anywhere save your living room you probably wouldn’t have heard it. Opening the door you looked up at him. He smiled but it wasn’t all there. _He_ wasn’t all there. He looked absolutely tired, as you expected, and it further cemented your decision. Taking hold of his hand you pulled him in and then pushed him on the couch. He handed you a plastic bag. “Got tons of garbage food. I’ll totally end up regretting it later.”

Popcorn. Chips. Soda. Skittles. Chex Mix. Doritos. Garbage. All garbage food. But it was good. “Thanks for buying.” You set the bag down on the coffee table and took the box of popcorn, ripping it open and taking out one of the packets. “Here is your selection!” Trying to be chipper. Trying so hard for him. Harder still when he looked the way he did.

Picking through your pile of awful movies he handed up a few. “The Room- for sure.” His giggle was a welcome relief. “Troll 2. Yeah. Obviously. Aaand...” Spreading the cases around. “Oh my god- dude- really?” Still laughing. You hoped he’d never stop. “Reefer Madness, are you kidding me?”

You couldn’t help rolling your eyes as you turned away from him. “I knew you’d pick that one.” So typical. “Found it at Best Buy for like four bucks, I think...” After tearing open the plastic packaging you set it into the microwave and pushed the little button. Making your way back into the living room you caught him downing Pepsi straight from the bottle and made a face at him. “Come on now!”

He ended up wiping his lips on the back of his hand, grinning. “Sorry. Animal. I know. Sue me.”

You arched your brow and attempted the best _I just might_ look at him that you could possibly muster. Something else that got a little giggle out of him. And it felt _so_ good. Leaning down you picked up The Room from the table and plucked it out of the DVD case, going over to your terribly tiny TV and DVD and plopping it in. Then you chucked the remote at him, something he almost just barely failed to catch. “Go ahead and set it up. I’ll get the popcorn-“ Dinging happily right then, “and some _cups_.”

“I already said sorry!” Smiling up at you even as you turned to walk back to the kitchen.

This felt good. It almost felt normal. But it wasn’t quite there. You dumped the popcorn into a bowl and brought two mismatched mugs out, clinking together as you held them by the handle. First you set everything on the table and then went to turn off the lights. When you came back he looked up at you, patting the seat next to him. So you sat. Poured the two of you some overly-sugary cola. Settled in.

Snuggled up.   
Let the hours slip by as you rested your head on his shoulder. While he laid his head atop yours. Groaned when you had to put in the next dvd. Then got a blanket from your bedroom while you had the opportunity. Sat back down with him. Draped it over the two of you while the next terrible flick started. His arm came around your shoulders, playing lightly at the ends of your hair.

It felt right. And good. Almost there. Not quite. And as Trolls 2 was ending, that _not quite_ made itself very known. His pocket buzzed; broke the both of you out of your happy silence together. He eased half away to wedge his phone out of his pocket, the light blinding. And though you shouldn’t have you spied. Because you were close enough to.

And her name was sitting in a text message that read  
 _Can we talk?_

Everything you’d tried to silence, the anger he seemed not to be able to muster in the wake of his upset, came back. You leaned away from him and frowned at him as the light from the TV cast shadows behind you. His eyes met yours and then he frowned too. But not quite in the same way. “I know- I know... I’m not- look, I’m not gonna answer her or anything. I don’t- ..I don’t wanna talk to her. I really don’t.” His words spilled out of him, excuses, all of them. Defending himself against words you hadn’t even said.

“Tell her not to talk to you anymore, then. And then block her number. Delete it.” He couldn’t be really doing this to himself, could he?

He waved his hand, trying to settle his phone back in his jacket pocket, “I will I will...” Excuses. Such pathetic excuses.

“Dan!” The only thing you could think to do. And maybe you shouldn’t have been doing it. You didn’t mean to yell. Especially when it coaxed another frown to his lips. But he didn’t retaliate this time. Didn’t defend himself. “Don’t go back to her.” Not after that.

“I’m not gonna.” He said, and firmly so. Like he knew he wouldn’t. Like he was sure.

Your frown dimmed to the caliber of his. No longer angry. Just... “Then why torture yourself like that?” Why keep her number? Why wait around? Read her texts? Why do any of that?

“You wouldn’t-“ He stopped himself before the look took hold of you. Disbelief. Disbelief that he would say something like that to you. Not even just _say_ it, but _**throw**_ it at you like his tone had been intending. Even though he’d stopped you couldn’t help but wear a little hurt. His hand went through his hair. “Shit. Sorry. You _would_.” Because you would understand. And you did. You’d been there. Done that. “Shit.” He said again, frowning harder this time. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, ___.”

You reached a hand out to lay against his knee. “It’s okay.” You understood.

“It’s not okay. It’s really not fucking okay.” He sounded exasperated- and far more exhausted than that, too. “I’m all fucking twisted up and I’m so sick of- fucking-“ Lips pressing together when it just wouldn’t come out right. You didn’t know if you should stop him from eating himself alive or fight with himself to get it out. Nothing seemed like the right choice. “I go to work and it’s amazing,” He started, slumping back against the couch, head tilted back, eyes closed. “I work with all these great people, you really should meet them... but it’s just like... ever since then they’re walking on eggshells around me and I _hate_ it. But then I come over and it’s like normal again. Like none of that ever happened. Except it did. And it’s fucking shitty. And I can’t _stand_ it.”

Because there was nothing he could do.   
And he’d never get any answers, none that would satisfy him. That’s why he held on to her number. Maybe one day he’d work up the courage to ask her why even when he knew nothing she said would make it right.

What did he do? Was he not enough? What happened? Why? Why, _why_ , **_why_**?

You watched as he opened his eyes. Stared at the ceiling. Unseeing. “It’s not like I haven’t been here before. But god damn. It fucking sucks.” Even though you didn’t answer verbally, you nodded, and he watched you for a moment out of his peripheral before he went back to not seeing anything at all again. “It feels like nothing I do is right.” Drawing in a breath, holding it, then pushing it out of his lungs, reaching his hands up to cover over his face. “What did you do? How did you do it?”

For that...  
For that you had no real answer. “I didn’t. For a long time, and you know that. I laid on your couch for weeks and let it consume me.” His hands dropped away from his face as you talked and he tilted his head on the back of the couch to look at you. “But I- ..I had you. God knows if I hadn’t I’d probably have gone back.” What would have been the alternative? “Eventually you coaxed me off the couch and-“

“Don’t do that.” Suddenly he was sitting up. His hands were in yours. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. Like I did everything. I didn’t. I didn’t make you go see a therapist. I didn’t make you write in your journal every day-“

Something about that struck you so hard it almost took the breath right out of you. “You know about that?”

As if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar his head ducked a little. “Yeah I- ...when I came to check on you a few times in the middle of the night. I’d see you writing. Or drawing. I’m not sure. But...”

“...did you ever read them?” You weren’t sure why you asked. You knew what the answer would be.

“No! God no! I’d never invade your privacy like that. ..you- ...you _know_ that, right?” Asking if you knew how much he respected you. And you could only smile and nod. You did. Yes, you did. So he smiled back. “Good.” His thumbs smoothed over the inside of your palms. Eyes dropping. “But- ...as much as I was there, you did it. You did everything. I just gave you a place to stay and smiled at you dumbly sometimes.”

You tilted your head and he followed, looking into your eyes again. “You still smile at me dumbly.” Trying your hardest.

He wore one, then. Dopey. Tired but trying. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

The credits were rolling on the screen beyond the two of you. But you didn’t care for them. He was looking at you. Really _looking_. Still smiling. So were you. And there it was. You felt it. Not only with you, or with him, but in the air around you. If this were a book or a movie you would have kissed. Life would have become better. Happier again. Maybe he was thinking the same thing. And maybe he was coming to the same realization that that wouldn’t help. Eyes lowering. Frowning almost so faintly you could barely tell. You knew he wasn’t smiling any more, at the very least.

-and then he got over it. Because he was leaning in. So close. So very close. Almost a kiss. And then you reached up to put a hand at his shoulder. Keeping him at bay. You wished you hadn’t. You _really_ wished you hadn’t. Because when he realized he hung his head in defeat, eyes closed so tight. “Fuck. I’m- I’m a mess. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t’ve done that.”

Rejecting him was hard. For a lot of reasons. Mostly that hurting him after she’d hurt him in a similar manner was... unspeakable. But you had to.

“Give me your phone.” Asking him softly. He didn’t have to. Surely not. Not if he didn’t want to. He looked up again, lips quirking to the side, brows knitting. Struggling, maybe, with the decision. But finally he relented, handing it over.

_Don’t talk to me anymore._

You showed him the message and he simply nodded. Let you do it. Let you send it. And then you deleted her name. Went into his settings. And blocked her. He could always undo it later, but you trusted him not to. Had to. In the same way he trusted you’d get back on your feet, too.

Then you laid his phone on the coffee table and reached up, hands touching across his stubbled jaw. And you watched as he melted. Drank up the affection so completely that it broke your heart all over again. “What she did was wrong, and it had everything to do with her. And _nothing_ to do with you.” You told him this with the utmost confidence.

Clearly he’d been expecting you to say something else because his brow arched upwards. “It can’t have been-“

“ _Yes_. It can. And it was. Believe me.” Thumb stroking just underneath his eye. He reached up, covering your hands with his, leaning into your right palm, eyes slipping closed. He looked so desperate then. “I love you.” You did. And this wasn’t the first time you’d told him.

You felt wetness escape his eyes and it pulled it out of you, too. He ended up nodding, hands leaving yours so he could wrap his arms around you. “This fucking sucks.” About as apt as he could put it; you laid your head to his shoulder. Holding on to him. “I’m so fucking _tired_ of this.”

Not knowing what to do, not knowing what to say to make it better, you just nodded. Held on to him tighter. Let him squeeze the life out of you. “I love you.” You said again. Just to let him know. He had to know. You weren’t the only one, either. He had to know that, too.

“I love you, too.” Broken out through a choked breath as he tried to get himself together. But it just wasn’t happening. Reaching up you stroked your hands back through his hair. “I’m sorry this has been like- fucking endless.”

“Dan,” Just a little laugh. “it’s been two weeks. Give yourself a break, okay?” He was always so kind to everyone else. Always so hard on himself. You never understood it. “It took me months to get off your couch.”

Finally he laughed, too, though it was just as watery as everything else. “Yeah- ..yeah I guess. I don’t know. I’m sorry. Thank you.” Words spilling out of him again as if they’d filled him up first.

You snuggled closer, getting right into his lap. Let him hold you like a frightened child might a teddy bear. “It’s okay... it’s okay..” And you cooed to him much the same way. The exact same way he had to you a year ago.

An hour melted away. He’d stopped crying about twenty minutes in. The rest was spent just holding each other. That was fine, too. As long as he was okay- ...even when he wasn’t. Maybe he would be, soon. Maybe this was helping. You could only hope.

When he realized he needed to get home the two of you parted. You stood in the doorway while he jangled his keys in his hand anxiously. “We’ll get Reefer Madness next time.” Promising him.

He smiled. Happy to hear it. “Yeah. ..yeah. Thanks. I’m... I’m really fucking sorry I’m such a mess.”

You reached up to pat his cheek. “It’s okay.”

Then he took hold of your hand, gently so. Bringing it down to his lips. Pressing a kiss to your palm. Regret washed over you in droves but you didn’t let it show. Instead you just kept smiling at him. “Later.” Then he let you go and turned away, walked back to his car, got in, turned it on and drove away.

You closed the door. Stood there for a long time. Traced the feeling still tingling at your skin. The shape of his lips.

_Dear future me, I should have let him kiss me._


	3. Chapter 3

_Dear future me, should have let him kiss me._  
_Dear future me, I regret it._  
_Dear future me, I don’t regret it._  
_Dear future me, it wasn’t the right time. Never the right time._

You let the pages flip past your fingers as you sat atop your bed, clock on the nightstand reading 3:05 in a soft blue glow. It never was the right time. And though you’d let yourself feel poorly for it after, remembered the shape of his face when you’d held him steady, silently told him _no_.. it pained you. But it was right. Jumping into anything with him after he’d had his heart crushed was stupid. And just asking for trouble. You wished you didn’t know better. But you did.

And yet...

Cradling your phone to your chest, without letting yourself think too much, you texted him.

_I can’t sleep._

And then almost immediately a response came back.

_Me either._

You pictured him then, lying in bed. Alone. Hair just over his eyes, turned on his side. Looking at his phone. Why was he awake? Was he okay? What was he thinking about? A long week and a half had passed you by since you’d gotten lost in his arms. Let him cry it out again. But wouldn’t let him kiss you. The days just dragged on. Sometimes blurring one to the next. You were stuck in your head. Worried about him. But he seemed to be getting on. At least you thought so. You hoped so. But... how could you really know?

Was he thinking about how you were? Imagining you lying in bed? You wondered. Thinking about it? All of it? Part of you hoped so. Part of you hoped not.

_Dear future me, I’m about to do the stupidest thing I’ve ever done._

Clearly. And you knew better. But you didn’t want to. You were tired of knowing better. Of being the one to do the right thing and getting burned by it every single time. Well... maybe more like being left on a low simmer. That was torture too, though. And it hurt just as much. You pulled the phone back up, over your journal. Stared at the text box. He wasn’t typing. Was he waiting for you? Must’ve been.

_It’s not that I didn’t want to kiss you, you know._

Stupid. So fucking stupid. Reckless. How could you be doing this to him? His answer didn’t take longer- longer than the first time, and yet shorter than the first two words.

_Yeah?_

He was being fed hope. You shouldn’t be doing it. God knows you were bound to get both of you in trouble. You really hoped not. Trouble meant more hurt. And you’d _never_ dream of hurting Danny. He just didn’t deserve it. Not after all this time. He didn’t deserve any of the shitty things these women did to him. Yet it happened. Every time. So who were you?

_The timing is just never right._

Never. Not once. You had pages upon pages upon _pages_ of pining and questioning. Still now you were doing it. Fifteen years smarter, supposedly, yet you still did the same garbage you did in college. Over him. Worrying. Wondering. Hoping. Desperate. Stupid desperate girl. But it was never the right time. Never. Not once. Not even now.

_Fucking tell me about it._

In this you could _almost_ hear his laugh. A breathy little thing as he reached a hand up and pushed his hair away from his eyes. Smiled weakly. Wanted it to be funnier than it was. You, too. Wished you could laugh at it. Instead of just marvel at the honesty. What could you do? You just didn’t know...

Suddenly you felt yourself crying, so sudden it stunned you. But there you were. Sitting with your journal and phone in your lap, holding your face in your hands. What right did you have? To be weeping like some spurned school girl? That was hardly it at all. It was just... didn’t you deserve better, too? Like he did. Life was just so _unfair_. The word dragging out in your head; a kid stomping their foot. Like being grounded. Punished for staying out too late. Instead the both of you were being punished- but for what? You just didn’t know...

His ringtone filled the air, _I can’t stand this indecision, married with a lack of vision..._ , and you thought about not answering. What good would it do? So you did. Held the phone up to your ear. He waited only moments, perhaps listening for confirmation of his fears before speaking. “Breathe, baby. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Nervous that he’d made you cry because he just wasn’t coming off well enough through text.

You ended up shaking your head, still pressing a hand to your eyes. “It’s not that- I laughed. Really.” You had. This wasn’t his fault. Well. It was but it wasn’t. Not in that way. How to explain it? Impossible...

“You don’t sound like you’re laughing. Unless I’ve inexplicably entered some bizzaro world where laughing is crying. Do I have a backwards S on my chest? Let me check...” Going through hoops just to get you to stop. And it was working. You eased out a watery laugh. “Nooo- no backwards S... I mean I do have a beard growing in- but that doesn’t really count as a goatee I just haven’t shaved in a few days...”

The smile was cracking at your lips, but this felt sad too in a way. You weren’t happy. You were just being poked into lighter moments. The sound of his voice. The quick jokes. It was good but it wasn’t enough. Not lasting. Not real. Just for now. “I’m sorry...” Sniffling, trying to get it together.

“What’re you sorry for? -god, you’re gonna get me started.” You could hear the creak in his voice. The threat of crying alongside you. Maybe because he didn’t know what else to do. Maybe because he was sad that you were sad. Or maybe because he was just _still_ sad about his own life. And that was why you were sorry. But before you could comment on it those first four words rang louder as if on repeat. He’d said them in the car. Hard. Harder than he’d meant.

But these now were... gentle. Maybe he was coming back to himself. “I’m just sitting here crying like I’m the one who got fucking cheated on. Feeling sorry for myself. I’m such a shitpile.” Shaking your head, trying to grasp on to anger instead of sadness. Anger was easier. Especially when it was anger at yourself.

“Well,” He answered, breathing out that breathy laugh you swore you heard over texting alone. “I mean you _did_.” The ridiculousness of this, along with the truth of it all, got another laugh out of you. He was so good at that. “You’re not a shitpile. What an awful thing to say.” Laughing himself then, too. “I’m not the crying police, you know. As far as I know we don’t have that. I mean. Just don’t go on the internet.” Still trying to bring some levity into it for you. For your sake alone. Slowly the tears were ebbing the more sad laughter he provoked out of you. “You can cry whenever you want. I mean what kind of guy would I be saying you couldn’t when I’ve been weeping on tap every time we sit down?”

You appreciated his efforts. Appreciated _him_ more than you’d ever be able to say in your entire life. You’d known that for a while now. About five journals back. “Yeah but you got hurt.” He had every right to cry. It was fine. And healthy. And good. And you wanted to allow him that peace no matter what happened.

He breathed out another noise. Something close to warm amusement, if you’d heard correctly. “So did you.” The strength of these words belied by the gentleness of which they came out of him rocked you to your very core. He wasn’t talking about what happened with you. Though if you hadn’t been listening hard enough, if you didn’t know him well enough, you might have guessed that was his intent.

But no.  
You knew that he was talking about seeing him hurt, hurt you, too. Because it did. Every time he’d cried you’d cried with him. And there was a reason for that. You both knew what it was. You’d even explained it to him on the couch. Twice.

“You should get some sleep.” As soon as you’d wrangled enough of yourself together you said this. Because you shouldn’t keep him awake, even if he’d already been up. As if waiting for your text... who knows. Maybe he could feel you from down the block. He’d certainly known you were crying.

“Nah.” This answer startled a laugh out of you, and he giggled, too. It was nice. Such a cheery noise. Maybe he was okay. “I’m up now. Gonna get some coffee I think. Sit down at some crappy diner somewhere. Maybe work on some lyrics or something.” Always working. Always up. Putting himself through his paces. At least there he was happy.

Picking up the pencil from the crease of your journal you twirled in between your fingers. “Can I come with you?” You already knew the answer. Knew he wouldn’t deny you.

His smile was clear in his soft voice. “Hell yeah you can come with me. I’d like that.” You heard the springs of his bed creak as he got up, listened to the groan as he stretched. Closed your eyes and imagined the sight of him. Lean, long body. Naked. Stretching one arm above his head, leaning up on his toes. Working his muscles. Phone still pressed to his ear in his other hand. “I’ll be there in five, that okay?”

Your face was warm. “Yeah. Sounds good.” Silence turned over and you pulled the phone away to see if it had disconnected- it hadn’t, and then you heard the sound of his dresser drawer opening. “Danny, hang up.”

“You hang up!” So quickly spat back at you, drenched in giggles. He pulled you under with the sound.

“Hang up!” As if it were simply impossible for you to do it, still laughing. Unable to help yourself.

“No! Oh- wait- wait!” You leaned forward, listening, waiting as he’d instructed you to do. And then when no sound came you pulled the phone away, found the call had ended. And this, too, got another well of giggles up out of you.

You left your phone to the side of the bed, thought of getting up- you should have. He’d be pulling up soon. But it wouldn’t take long to pull on a pair of pants and a shirt. Instead you brushed your fingers over the wet spots in your journal and brought your pencil down underneath the last entry from just minutes ago.

_Dear future me, I love Danny._


End file.
